Dreaming With A Broken Heart
by Rowan Cross
Summary: When Narcissa Black's engagement to Lucius Malfoy is announced, things will never be the same for her and the only one who sees her as a person, Severus Snape. And you may judge her, but do you really know the whole story? An epic romantic tragedy
1. The Middle Year

**Dreaming With A Broken Heart**

_Chapter One: The Middle Year_

_By: Rowan Cross_

"What are you looking for, hm?" My mother pulled my hair, forcing my face back towards the mirror. Although I'd been glancing out the window, which viewed the expansive grounds, every few minutes, I'd thought she didn't notice. That was foolish on my part; Mother did not miss anything.

"No one," I answered coldly, with the air of superiority that I knew was maddening to her.

Her grip tightened on my hair and she said softly, "I don't _recall_ asking you _whom_ you were looking for." Gently, with my own hands, I urged her to let go of my hair. She relented and busied herself lacing up my corset, "Who have you invited, Narcissa? You've never been so excited to see your cousins and our family friends."

"Just a friend from school."

"A Slytherin?"

"Yes."

"A pureblood?" I did not answer, simply downcast my eyes to the orient carpeting. It had seemed like a good idea at school to invite him to my seventeenth birthday party. Of course, it was easy to be strong at school, "Did you invite a Mudblood to my house?"

"It's not _your_ house," I said under my breath. My mother's grey eyes smoldered in the mirror, but she didn't say anything or lift her hand against me. Father had taught her long ago that though she may be heavy handed with my sisters, I was strictly off limits. We looked alike, her and I, with our light hair and soft white skin, though I had my father's icy, impenetrable blue eyes.

"You've gained weight," was her reply as she tugged the laces as tight as they would go without the whalebone breaking anything. I would have let out an exasperated sigh if it was worth the effort. My sisters were both naturally tall and thin, but I was curvy and being the weight my mother deemed proper made me look sickly...or, so I'd been told.

Within thirty minutes I was in a grey dress with matching slippers, and I had managed to rid myself of my mother's presence. This had been particularly easy since Cousin Sirius had just arrived and Mother had not put up all the heirlooms that Sirius' clumsy fingers seemed attracted to. I stood in front of the full length mirror and gave myself a once over; it bunched up slightly at the waist and was too loose up top and made me look _frumpy_.

"That is the ugliest dress I've ever seen. Even you can't pull it off." Bellatrix flounced across the room in a slinky, black number that made her look for all the world like an ancient war goddess. She wore jewelry that should have jangled when she walked, but it remained conspicuously silent.

"Mother says she wore it to her Middle Year Party." I said indifferently, referring to the birthday of a witch or wizard's seventeenth year, when they were between adulthood and childhood.

"It's certainly old enough." We shared a smile, Bellatrix was great at times like these; when nothing serious was involved and the target of her idle anger was someone else. "How odd that she didn't care enough about her oldest daughter to let her wear that dress, if she's so nostalgic. I wore a black, silk dress with green accents."

She draped her arm around my shoulder so that we were both visible in the mirror and held her face close to mine. Her face exuded an innocence that was unlike the one that graced me in those days. It was an innocence that came with having no understanding of adult concepts, "Of course it got ruined when I shagged Timothy Montague in the kitchen pantry. I think we frightened the house elves."

A horrified laugh escaped my mouth and I shook my head at my sister, my soft blonde rolling over my shoulders. We both stretched out on the bed, me with some difficulty. "Well, I think mine will be a little less eventful."

"I don't know," her hooded eyes seemed lively, "Mother invited Lucius Malfoy, he's had his eye on you since your third year."

"Bella, he's ten years older than me. Besides, I've seen the girls he gets involved with, I wouldn't touch him with a fifty foot pole."

Although the expression on her face was nearly gleeful, Bella made a noise and said, "You better not let Mother hear you talking like that. Malfoy could take care of you, unlike the types you hang around with now. You should really think about it, you'd have run of the house because he'd always be gone, all that money, all those connections."

I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, her eyes were closed and her chest was rising and falling slowly. "What are you up to?"

She rolled over on her side to face me and with a devious smile said, "I heard him talking to Mother and Father. He was asking for their permission to court you."

I wasn't overtly concerned, and I told her so, "Father would never allow it. Malfoy is a pretty face, his dream is to have all his daughters marry scholars. Why, he's more likely to let me marry someone..like..." She tapered off from the dark look her sister was giving her.

"A few years ago you would have been happy that Malfoy even took an interest in you, being the youngest sister of the Black line, especially since Grandfather Pollux gave a majority of the inheritance to Aunt Walburga's side of the family." I didn't move, or reply, because she was right. When I was a child, I had planned my wedding and even throughout my adolescent I had dreamt of my "knight in shining armor" taking me away from here. Now...well, I could scarcely imagine myself as someone's wife or mother. It was dangerous territory for a pureblood girl. Bella concluded, "You've changed."

"Yes, thank Merlin for that," I said under my breath, struggling to my feet.

"Well, in that case, you best make Mother thing you favor him."

"As usual, your unique brand of logic is lost on me, dear sister."

"Narcissa, do you really think Mother will do anything that makes you happy?"

"Now, wait a minute. I know we don't always get along..."

"She's madly jealous of you. The way she sees it, you've stolen from her," I open my mouth to protest, but she went on, "Her beauty and youth, Father's attention, the family inheritance. And it drives her mad to see you happy. Reverse psychology, you see."

In those days, Bella's insanity hadn't been as obvious. Our parents had demanded a certain level of refinement from their three girls. I often think that's why when she was liberated by the Death Eaters, it was such a bloody affair. Eventually my sister, who was a textbook case of a sociopath, would have snapped. The Death Eaters had simply been a convenient catalyst to the process, advocating a belief she had grown up with, therefore making it acceptable.

"Well," I rummaged through the ivory wardrobe in search of...ah-ha! I held up the long piece of silver fabric and wrapped it around my waist and conveniently covered the extra fabric and turning it into an empire waist dress, "why doesn't he want to marry you? You're his age and...his type."

"Don't worry about my affairs, little sister," but her eyes gleamed with conspiracy, the type of comradeship that only two Blacks can share. Before I could answer, though, Mother's shrill voice sounded up the stairs, calling me down to greet the guests as was customary.

A few close relatives were already congregated in the foyer, the only ones that the airs did not have to be put on for. Mother was talking quietly with Aunt Walburga who had little Reggie, my youngest cousin (whom I knew by name, that is), hiding behind her skirt, even though he was a tad too old at eight for such behavior. I caught only a snippet of the conversation, "–only bring two, but I keep forgetting about what happened with Andromeda."

Mother stiffened at the mention of her middle child. I looked at the two women, without announcing my presence; watching was a skill I'd learned from Severus, and learned it well. They could be sisters, Walburga and Druella Black. Both of them had cold, calculating grey eyes and were tall, willowy looking women. Though their hair was black and blonde, respectively, they both, as opposed to growing gray, had simply lessened in the intensity of color. Yes, the Black family was a fountain of youth, perhaps since they all die so young. My aunt had none of the beauty that my Mother possessed; her skin was sallow and her face was pinched looking.

There was hatred there, though. Walburga claimed that Druella was not a 'true' Black, for her blood did not run with theirs. "You should be a Black to marry a Black," she would always say. And though there was little love between Mother and I, her attacks along these lines was a claim that my blood, as well, must be dirty. The idea sent a little shiver of fear through me, a desperate feeling that my whole life was based on a lie. So, like a Black ironically, I fought back against her.

"Oh, Aunt Walburga!" I allowed delight to overcome my features, pitching my voice just right, and widening my eyes to the epitome of innocence, "How is Cousin Sirius?"

"Oh, _yes_," her voice dripped with contempt and haughtiness. I smiled as I took my leave, knowing my work was done here. Mother could not bring up such a nasty topic, she was more refined than my aunt, but I was young, too young to understand the can of worms I was opening. Apparently. I heard the rest of the sentence as I continued to the door, taking my place close to the entrance, "how _is_ our little Gryffindor prince?"

One thing you must understand is that...how shall I explain this? It's like a Muggle wedding; in the way that its not intended for the person who is being married (or coming of age), but for their relatives and the occasional friends. Father, I knew, was using the party to conduct business, and Mother to improve her status in our family. People questioned her use now that she had passed her baby-making years, without producing an heir at that.

First the older generation arrived in their tailored robes and coiled hair, bearing gifts in the form family heirlooms which Mother quickly took, storing them away or displaying them.

Generally, next came Father's business associates, idly pushing a galleon or two into my hand, as they had when I was a small child. I don't think they were really sure what this party was for exactly, or even knew which daughter I was. These coins went to my personal house elf Tibby (whom I affectionately called Bebe) who took them away. She was a stately little elf with large, mossy eyes and a straight, pointed nose. As a child, I'd often joked that she must be a pureblood house elf, judging from the way she carried herself.

Then came the younger crowd, people scarcely older than me. Their liberal ideas were present in their speech and clothes; short robes, short hair, with the smell of Muggle cigarettes and liquor on them. From them I received books (which I gave to Severus) that I could never possibly attempt, and clothes that I wasn't sure how to put on and those went to the more knowledgeable girls from my dorm.

Finally there were those that were somewhere in-between, mostly young mothers and their husbands, always late because of a last minute changing or feeding. Their gifts were that of practicality; fine clothes, everyday jewelry, "how to" books, and small decorative items. After touching a multitude of swollen stomachs and cooing and numerous babies, I was growing irritable. I was wilting in the heat, my powder growing moist and caking to my skin and a fine line of perspiration appearing at my waistband and underneath the corset. That and Severus had not yet arrived and I was rather mortified of being stood up at my own birthday party especially, and I cringe later at this thought, by him.

There was a noise outside, the beating of hoofs and I edged toward the door, along with many other guests. A grand carriage was rolling up their rounded driveway, pulled by a pair of Pegasus and accented in gold and silver. A murmur ran through the crowd and I leaned against the frame of the door; no part of our family had _that_ much money, not after the war with Grindelwald. A house elf struggled out of the cargo hold of the carriage and opened the door.

All I had to see was the flash of blonde hair, even fairer than my own and the cane, decorated with an intricate carving of a snake at its head. I will not lie, I was rather impressed, to see this man with all his riches and sophistication When he saw me at the door he flashed a smile and approached.

Suddenly feeling shy, I said softly, "Hello, Mr. Malfoy."

He laughed, a deep, manly sound, "So formal!" Taking my hand, he gently kissed the back and a small giggle escaped my lips. "Happy Middle Year, Miss Black." Looking over my shoulder, he added, "And Mrs. Black. You look radiant, as always."

Mother smiled coldly and ushered him into the house, ordering Tibby to get refreshments for their newest guest. I saw him make his way through the crowd to Father, whom he instantly struck up a conversation about his work with.

"Okay, everyone is here," everyone turned to look at Mother, whose commanding voice had rang out, "the adults will be making their way into the sitting room, while the children will go out to the garden."

There was a knock on the door, and Mother looked annoyed, "Honestly, who could _that_ be?"

I thought I knew, so I tried to beat her to the door, but in my restrictive clothing, failed to do so. Everyone in my family, and their friends, was watching as Severus Snape walked through the door. Severus was a year younger than me, he'd been a surprise for the Slytherin house. We were in our glory, none of the houses did quite as well in classes or on the Quidditch field. And along came this small, unhealthy looking _half-blood_ boy. It was much like an ugly child born into a family full of beautiful people, blemishing any future family photos.

He'd survived his year by sheer virtue of his mind; Severus knew more dark curses and potions than anyone. If someone in our house was cruel to him, they would find a potion in their drink that made their insides itch or a spell that rebounded their own attacks back to them. Needless to say I took an interest in him, feigning ignorance in potions to catch his attention, he'd caught me within a week, confronting me about it. He'd been angry, yet exuded a Slytherin calms, asking what kind of fool I took him for and what the punch line to this joke was.

Of course, he'd forgiven me. It'd taken more than my usual gentle smile to get us there, though. I'd proved my usefulness to him as an ally, and that I was interesting enough to captivate him in conversation. By his reaction to me, you would think I was the first person to show him any sort of kindness. He desperately absorbed every word I spoke to him, every touch. I'll admit that I power tripped on this Severus actually became a sign of social standing for me; I had something the other girls didn't. All of them could find a boy whom they would flutter their eyelashes at and in return be told how beautiful they are. Snape, however, treated all of them with disdain, save for me. Obviously there was something special, ethereal about me. I'd always thought so.

A heat that wasn't due to the weather swept over my features as I watched them judge him, and therefore judge me. His skin was a translucent white with blotches of red appearing from the cold and his hair, though clean, was still lank. While his jacket was far too large, his pants were too short. I could see his _ankles_ for Merlin's sake. And...was he wearing _white_ socks with his black suit? At school it was okay, I was a Black and my saying it was okay, made it okay. Here, among my relatives, I did not have nearly as much power or influence.

Feeling slightly guilty about this, I set my shoulders back and approached him, saying in a voice that, I'm proud to say, did not waver, "Severus!"

I took his hands in mine and kissed him lightly on the lips, as I did all boys, though the one I gave him was not quite as chaste. Mother cleared her throat behind me, and I saw an odd look on her face, and, being young, I thought nothing of it when she pulled Lucius aside as the guests headed off to their respective locations.

We sat in the garden, the guests begging for my favor as I sat on a marble bench like a queen. Severus sat beside me, distinctly uncomfortable until I sat my hand over his, minus my glove (terribly intimate, this skin on skin contact, for a pureblood girl) and drew small circles with my thumb. We were in school for a moment, in our private world, cutting off anyone who tried to intervene. And then came dinner.

A five course meal was planned for the occasion, beginning with salad and soup, moving into a rich meal of meat and potatoes, and ending with a sweet, light dessert, and all of it was complimented by a very fine wine. The seating did not place Severus near me, but rather left him at the mercy of the adults. At first this worked in his favor, since he was near my father who was speaking to his colleagues about his specialty, magical theory. They were arguing about where the future of the study lay.

"Potions," Severus said quietly, and they all looked at him, "Magic has it's limits, but potions has endless possibilities. If you know what every ingredient does, then you can get them to do whatever you want."

"Ah, do you fancy yourself a potions expert?" Father looked amused, but curious.

Knowing Severus wouldn't sing his own praises, I said, "He's really good at it, Father. By his third year, he knew more about potions than our teacher. I can't count the number of time he asks a question and the teacher doesn't know the answer."

Mother gave me an annoyed look, and said in what an outsider would consider a civil voice, "Yes, well, people like him tend to be good at that sort of thing, the subject that involves the least magic."

"Now, Druella," Father said, ever diplomatic, "potions is a very–."

"Actually," I interrupted, glaring at Mother, who held my gaze, "he excels in all his other subjects as well."

"Well, if ever you need a job after you graduate, come and find me."

"Yes, sir."

Mother had clearly had enough, and rather hysterically hit her fork against her glass, "I have an announcement." Everyone turned their attention to the woman, "My beautiful daughter has turned seventeen, she is now an adult. Traditionally, this is the age when a young woman is committed to a marriage." A lump grew in my throat and the dark room felt as though it were closing in, "So, it is my great joy to announce her engagement to Lucius Malfoy."

Gasps and scattered applause spread out through the room and someone called out about the joining of the ancient lines. My mouth, meanwhile, formed a perfect "oh" and I looked rather desperately around the room. Remembering myself, I awkwardly got to my feet and kissed Lucius on the cheek, and forced a smile at my relatives. My mind was in overdrive, noticing every detail about the people at the table. The sour look on Aunt Walburga's face and the "I told you so" one on Bella's face.

A flood of people stood to offer their congratulations and advice. It was not until the last person had shaken my hand or hugged me that I even thought to look for Severus. He wasn't there, and that brought me an infinite amount of relief. Though I wondered if he would forgive me for this as easily as he'd forgiven my first manipulation.


	2. One Love, One Lifetime

**Dreaming With A Broken Heart**

_Chapter Two: One Love, One Lifetime_

_By: Rowan Cross_

**Note: **Please leave a review. It is a huge pet peeve of mine when people neglect their duties of feeding the authors.

Large, dull gray buildings rose on the horizon, exuding a disgusting mix of fumes. I lowered my gaze from them in the distance to glance around my immediate surroundings. It wasn't really a town, but a collection of small houses with patched roofs and broken windows. Was this really where he lived? Pity spread through me and I suddenly felt ashamed of the way I was dressed. Would Snape think I'm rubbing my wealth in his face. I adjusted my red robe over my long pink sweater and white leggings and reached into my pocket, extracting a piece of parchment.

Scrawled in Holland Zabini's hand writing was _210 Barker Lane, Heaclinther England_ and here I was. It turned out to be an area north of London, at that it was an area that the cab driver had refused to enter. Disgusted I had given the man his money and told him to wait for me or I would be calling his supervisor. It was nonsense, of course, but I had heard Sirius say it once to a cab driver...it had worked then, there was no reason for it not to work now.

The nearest house was marked with the number two hundred, so I continued to walk at a steady pace down the road. It felt good, the cold air on my skin but with the sun on my face. My slippers were taking a battering from the uneven dirt road, but it wasn't as if I couldn't buy another pair.

Their house was a particularly depressing one. It had a starved, bare look about it as where others had tried to make their shacks look homely. It was built out of plain, white birch and the windows were dark, though you could see a struggling light on the inside. Suddenly, I was nervous about seeing Severus. Zabini had included in her letter that Snape didn't want to see me, and she had hinted at the idea that I should repay her for getting the address by telling her what had transpired between us. She was a busybody through and through. The fear that he might have changed in these past six months also occurred to me. It didn't seem likely, of course, but I had changed greatly in that time. I would leave it to him to decide if I had changed for the better or worse.

Lifting a hesitant hand, I knocked on the door. Inside was the creaking of a chair and the floorboards as someone made their way to receive me. The woman who answered could only be Severus' mother. She was slightly homely looking with pointy features and lank hair, but she was neatly groomed and dress, and I couldn't help but notice her fingernails were clean. She looked curiously at me, her expression kind but very guarded.

"Is..Severus..here?" I asked slowly, and then I realized that she might think that I was acting like she's stupid. Unfortunately, my next sentence came out a tad too quickly, "I'm an old school friend."

Her face remained impassive, but she opened the door a little more to reveal a drab room. Severus was sitting at the table staring fixedly at a book opened before him. Carefully, his eyes drifted upwards and when he saw me, a look of infinite relief filled his face. An instant later it changed to a heated anger.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Trust me, I have no desire to be here. But my distaste for places like this was overshadowed by my desire to see you." I was a Slytherin girl, therefore I had a lot of nerve.

He, of course, was a Slytherin boy, and had the same amount of nerve, "It took you this long? You couldn't have wanted to see me much. Or are you really so stuck up that you had to work up the courage to come to this part of England."

"I wrote you. _Several_ letters. All of them couldn't have gotten lost."

Mrs. Snape seemed amused by our conversation and said quietly, "Why don't you take your friend into the other room so the two of you can work this out?"

Obediently, he collected his school things and led me into a small living room with a iron fireplace and a lumpy looking couch that had bed dressings folded at the end of it. Arranging my skirt around me, I sat down on the couch. Severus stood, his arms folded sullenly, looking down at me with judgement in his eyes.

"Is that your engagement ring?" His voice shook with anger or tears, and I looked at the jeweled band on my hand. It was an ancient heirloom of the Malfoy family, only the actual wedding ring would be new. Supposedly symbolizing that my marriage would be my own. It was a joke, it really was.

There was no use lying to him. Nor was it any use to answer; he, of course, knew, and admitting it would only rub it in. "It's impermanent." I said, softly, pleadingly, "I'm not bound to him in the way I am to you. Look," I slid the ring off my finger and placed it in my pocket, "a symbol and nothing more. I'm here with you willingly."

"Then why did you agree to it?" His throat was working and I realized how young he was suddenly. Still a boy, really, painfully vulnerable and ignorant.

"_Severus_, what did you expect? For us to...Merlin...get married?"

"_Narcissa_! What did _you_ expect? For me to be your lap dog for the rest of our lives? I refuse to live off Malfoy's scraps."

"I'm not a piece of meat for the two of you to fight over!" I'd raised my voice, I was shaking now, angry and hurt. Severus was supposed to be the one who saw me as a person, but he sounded so bitter. It pained me to look at him, so I focused on the small fire in the iron belly stove keeping the room warm.

There was the shriek of tires outside as a car came abruptly to a stop. Severus stiffened in front of me and met my eyes, "You have to go."

"Severus, we're not done here."

He opened his mouth to reply, but there was a bang from the other room as a door was thrown open and I jumped in surprise, stumbling backwards. Quietly, he whispered that he'd told me so, and walked quickly from the room. Hesitantly, I walked to the door in the other room and saw a man stumbling in the door. A bottle of alcohol fell from his hands and shattered all over the ugly, albeit previously clean floor.

"You're drunk." Severus' voice held not surprise or even anger, just a simple statement of fact.

"Wha'sit to yoou?" He said nothing, turned to me, his face turning hard and heat raising in his cheeks.

Mrs. Snape gave her son a hard look and then walked over to her husband, wringing her hands together. "Tobias, where is your paycheck?"

"_I'm_ the ooone woo earrned it."

"You earn it so we can eat," her voice was slightly desperate and despondent.

The man, Tobias, snorted heavily and said, "Yoou ssend the booy tooo that schoool. Don't talk tooo me about wastin' mooney."

"I don't consider my son's education a waste." Her voice was quiet, but strong. Tobias raised his hand to her. I wasn't _shocked_ or anything. My father was an even tempered man who never took his angers out physically. Aunt Walburga was extremely temperamental though, known to attack both her kids and her husband. And martial violence was hardly unheard of in the wizarding world, very common, actually, among pureblood couples.

Severus was over there in front of him before his hand landed. He grabbed it and pushed the man backwards, causing him to go crashing back into the wall. Voice full of ice, he said, "The next time you try to lay a hand on her, you better make damn sure I'm not here."

"Yoou li'l bastard." I flinched when he brought his hand down on Severus' face. It wasn't the sharp noise of a slap, but the terrible crunching noise of bones breaking. He stumbled back and his mother grabbed his shoulder, "Severus, why did you do that? You always make him angry! Get out of here for the next few hours."

He did, with his face turning in anger and he took off out the back door. I stood there helplessly looking at his mum, feeling angry myself. Years later I would understand the reasons for her hurtful words, but back then, in my youth it elicited my coldest glare before I followed my friend out the back door. I caught up to him down the road, walking quickly as I held up my robes and awkwardly followed him.

I couldn't relate to him in that moment. He was stuck here in his small world full of hate and ugliness, blending perfectly into it while I was moving from a world of sophistication and beauty into a world of sophistication and beauty. But I sensed weakness. Show me a Slytherin who wouldn't have taken advantage of it.

"Severus...stop...it..." I huffed. He did, coming to a complete stop without turning to face me, his hands clenched at his side. I hadn't expected him to stop, so I didn't know what to do. For a while we just stood there; him looking at the houses surrounding us and me looking at him. His nose was clearly broken and blood was dribbling down over his mouth. He either didn't notice or didn't care. Reaching down, I picked up some snow and allowed it to melt, using it and a handkerchief to clean his face.

"Regular Florence Nightingale."

"Who?"

"Never mind."

We were silent for a long time, each lost in our individual thoughts, I suppose. "Hey," I said finally, digging into my pocket again and pulling out a piece of neatly folded parchment, "this is the address of Malfoy Manor...you can write me. In fact," I spun around in the snow, giving him a good look at me from all angles, "I insist upon it."

I wanted to show him how it could be, how we could have each other in our lives even with my marriage. He looked desolate and sighed, taking the piece of paper, not looking at it, but stuffing it in his pocket. Deftly, I leaned forward and touched my lips to his, tasting the slight, bitter tinge of blood mixed with the slightest taste of peppermint. He smelt like sage and other unidentifiable potions ingredients.

"Who says," I said softly, tipping my head up towards him, "that you're getting Lucius' scraps? Hm? Perhaps he's getting yours."

Later I would wonder if he took me back simply because he was so depressed and had his self-worth battered so badly. However, on that day I praised my own charms when he returned my affections. I left him there, he told me that he could stay out here for a few hours and then go home. That his father wouldn't remember a thing when he awoke in the morning. That he was used to this but he'd be thinking of me, and it would make things more bearable. And he said he _loved _me. It made me smile, seeing him speak those words in a voice that was frightened, but excited with the gilded opportunities I had offered him. A glimpse of the sun for someone who had been kept in darkness for so long. And then I left, that night preparing for my visit to Malfoy Manor the following morning.

XxXxXxXxX

Running my hands gently over the silky, fragile petals of one of the dozen roses held in my hands, "I think they're beautiful."

"Of course you do," Bellatrix said, her voice dripping with contempt. She was seated on one of my trunks, balanced gracefully with one leg folded on top of the other. "They're so common, though. Lucius has been sending you dresses, jewelry, tickets to shows...things you'll _use_. What is he going to do with roses?"

"Eat them." The comment came from the window seat and I looked over at my cousin.

"I know I'll regret asking...but, pray tell, why would he do that?"

Sirius grinned, looking up from the plate tray of chocolate balanced on his lap. He'd been here since the beginning of winter break, following Bella and I home like a lost puppy. Of course, we'd known that it wasn't for the sake of family togetherness. As it turns out, his mother found this maddening, and that suited his purposes just fine. Mother had treated Sirius like a little prince since he'd arrived, trying to gain his favor. How perfect it would be if the heir decided he favored _her_ family better than his own. "It would be a nice step up from eating babies and bathing in the blood of virgins."

"He does _not_." He shrugged with a smirk and went back to eating. I sighed and nervously ran my hands over my black dress, "I hope he doesn't expect anything."

"Well, if he does, just lie back and think of England." Sirius snickered and I put my hands on my hips, glaring at him. Sometimes I feel really bad for the girls in Gryffindor, all their guys seem so crude.

"I will_ not._"

"I don't think I'd mind," said Bellatrix, tilting her head thoughtfully, "He seems like the type who can," she smirked slightly, "help a girl relax."

Heat rose in my cheeks once I figured out what she meant. Sirius made a catty comment about Bella not needing any more relaxing, and she called him a poof, and he called her crazy, and it continued on as it always did. To be honest, I wouldn't miss this, not at all. Some games grew complicated while others grew predictable. Theirs had become both.

"Narciss_a_!" I wouldn't miss Mother's screechy voice either. I grabbed the roses and Tibby, with strength that always surprised me, lifted the trunk and carried it behind me down the stairs. Mother and Father stood at the bottom of the steps and I smiled, giving Father a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Mother's look was not lost on me.

"So the youngest Black leaves," he said, sounding amused and sad at the same time, "are you quite certain you do not want to stay here for one last Christmas?"

I did, I wasn't ready to leave my childhood home to go to a strange man's house. Not ready to be a wife. Not ready to have to devote myself to another person. Fear filled me and I felt as though I might cry. Instead I swallowed, smiling through the tears and said, "Dad, it's very kind of Mr. Malfoy to invite me to his home for the holidays. It would be an insult to his family to decline his request."

"Fine, fine. I bought you this book for your stay. Merlin knows you won't be getting much stimulating conversation." I glanced at the title. It was a collection of short stories by Gwendolyn Pierce, my favorite French author.

"You shouldn't insult him like that. He's been very kind to us."

"I think we're being very kind to _him, _Druella." She rolled her eyes impatiently and I cut in, not wanting them to start a fight, "Either way, where is he?"

"He's a busy man, Narcissa," her tone could not have been more condescending, as if I was some petulant child. She continued, "He made sure you were well accommodated, though. Look out on the lawn."

I walked to the door, already knowing what I would see. The horses stood on the lawn in all the grandeur, with the same carriage that he had arrived so impressively in on the day of my seventeenth birthday. Close up, it did not look as beautiful. Inlaid with gold and silver as well as several gems, it was a garish site. I would later discover that Lucius was also fit that description. Him, his life, his accomplishments; all beautiful and admirable until you look at how he got to where he was. Malfoy was a gilded man, like that guy in a Muggle novel Sirius likes so much.

Closer now I could see the Pegasus; they were beautiful beasts with powerful back muscles that I could feel coiled under my hand. The inside of the carriage was drafty and had two large windows on either side with privacy curtains. They were green, of course, and I rolled my eyes. Lucius was such a child. It amazed me that he would decorate it in Slytherin colors, even so long after he's graduated. Though, to be fair, I'd never been big on the rivalry between houses.

As I settled into my seat, I leaned to look out the window. Mother stood there, hands folded before her, looking hungrily at the carriage. Bellatrix stood next to her, eyes unreadable as always, but she shared a sisterly smile with me. I wished that they would wave, or show some sort of emotion that I was leaving them. That was tacky, of course, but it didn't stop me from wishing. Then I looked over at Sirius who was grinning lazily and waving like a madman. It made me smile and shake my head, retreating back into the carriage.

Severus always said that imagining, pretending, and dreaming were signs of a weak ming. I, however, found myself escaping to a world of make believe whenever I was overwhelmed by the real world. My daydream was that my family was very poor and that I was their beautiful daughter sent off to marry a rich man to save them from poverty. Calmer now, I opened my eyes and watched as the countryside grew more and more wild. A feeling is isolation settled over me that would follow me for the next twenty years of my life.


End file.
